


it's a stick up! nobody make a sound!

by thebetterbina



Series: The RK800 "Connor" Series #313 248 317 - ## [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Art, Canon-Typical Violence, Digital Art, Gen, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I LOVE MOONBEE SHE DRAWS EVERYTHING, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Art, M/M, Other, Pictures, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Why Did I Write This?, my name is bina and i love all the connor models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: It’s unnerving to see them side by side, it’d be hard to tell the difference for any normal person if it weren’t for the fact both of them wore different uniforms. Hank hadn’t considered the fact any of the other Connor models might go into law enforcement, but it was refreshing to see Connor so excited to talk to one of his own models despite the history he has with them.this fic has PICTURES and it now has BIG DICK ENERGYhgggnhfgh look at him handsome boi"Connor" Series number #313 248 317 - 53 // “Mason”





	it's a stick up! nobody make a sound!

**Author's Note:**

> [@moon_bee_](https://twitter.com/moon_bee_) and i were [inspireD BY THIS BANGIN SONG AND THE PICTURE GJENJFKS LOOK AT IT!!! LISTEN TO IT !! ! ! HGNHNHNH](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctVgA2xHPyE)
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> [hgggnhfgh look at him handsome boi](https://twitter.com/moon_bee_/status/1047402072419827712)
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> i'm [@thebetterbina](https://twitter.com/thebetterbina) and i dare you to come @ me with ideas
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> GIVE ME COMMENTS AND KUDOS ME AND MOONBEE BOTH WANT VALIDATION OKAY

_ Now, Tommy's a good father _ __  
_ Two sons and a daughter _ __  
_ But he wakes up and he asks himself: _ __  
_ "Why even bother?" _ __  
_ If he cannot feed his family _ __  
_ The wage he's paid's insanity _ _  
_ __ Every day he's dealing with a new calamity

 

 

 

Hank swore the day couldn’t get any worse than it already had.

 

 

With his normal human vision he barely made out the suspect through the glass, Thomas “Tommy” Smith, 41, no criminal record, unemployed from his last job that had decided to replace their entire workforce with androids. Hank winced when that little fact was mentioned, he knew damn well the effects the android boom had caused at the beginning; even after the revolution there were still some people bitter at the fact that not only did they have to give up their jobs to machines that could perform better than them - but their apparent “right” to spit and curse on any android for simply existing.

 

 

It’s a little sad to see how resentful some humans could become (he was one of them Once Upon A Time), but Hank digressed, it didn’t solve the fact the current man was holding an entire floor of human and androids hostage.

 

 

“-- and bargaining won’t work?”

 

 

Captain Allen, _the Cunt_ , as Hank had dubbed spoke gruffly to where Connor was crouched with a tablet. His tone wasn’t anything rude, the guy had softened considerably after the revolution and seemed to do a 180 on all of them with his attitude towards the new intelligent species.

 

 

“No, unfortunately not, for starter’s - it’s _difficult_ to reason with a human who is as mentally unstable as Thomas Smith is. One wrong word and he could decide to shoot at whim. My systems calculate it is unwise to engage with the target verbally …” 

 

 

Hank wanted to sigh, he knew the underlying meaning of those words. It would be impossible to save those hostages unless they killed the guy first. The thought doesn’t sit right, killing in general never quite sat well with him.

 

 

“Additionally if what he’s saying is true, then the bomb is hidden well enough the building doesn’t detect any abnormalities. It would be wiser to send someone in.”

 

 

“Oh no, _not again_ , we’re not doing this Connor --” Hank is quick to snap, he's seen Connor throw his life like it was nothing when it came to others. The lesson on self preservation never really got through to him.

 

 

“ _Lieutenant_ , on sight I am the most capable of carrying out this --” The argument that would've ensured is cut short by Captain Allen, mouthing through his earpiece and turning to the two detectives that tethered on the edge of a full blown yelling match.

 

 

“FERAL is rolling in.”

 

 

 

_ Lost his old occupation _ __  
_ But it wasn't immigration _ __  
_ It was a machine, automation that replaced him _ __  
_ Politicians left him, corruption since the recession _ _  
_ __ So he grabs his Smith and Wesson, says he'll teach 'em all the lesson like:

 

 

 

Hank has never really bothered listening in on the Android Act and everything else that followed, mostly because Connor did the job of summarising everything for him, from the creation of specialised unions for androids and the eventual tying of their human militia with androids - he doesn't remember _exact details_ but what he does know was that FERAL was the android opposite of SWAT and though both sides didn’t discriminate towards the species of their officers; from his basic understanding FERAL’s entire training program was tailored for android stamina and made even the toughest human Navy SEAL queasy.

 

 

And what did FERAL stand for again? He's pretty sure the first word is Field.

 

 

It doesn’t take long for the trademark black van to roll in, holographic line identifying their unit as different to the SWAT teams on site. 

 

 

It’s another thing entirely when he sees the androids coming off the vans, their gear alone made them no different to their SWAT counterparts - the only thing off was the, and he had heard rumours, of the ridiculous animal masks FERAL choose to use for their officers instead of the standard headgear. Animal masks? Really?

 

 

A wolf makes his way over to Captain Allen, clearly the one in charge if the casual greeting was anything to go by, some strands of blonde hair peaked out but otherwise all other features remained hidden by the mask. Hank wonders how easily it would be to go over and smack it off.

 

 

“Captain Allen, we’ve been briefed of the situation and have a plan underway. If you don’t mind me and my men coming through?”

 

 

“Not at all.”

 

 

If Hank had the option to record the moment he would, who would’ve the thought that _Captain Cunt_ actually had some civility in his personality? Certainly not Hank, for all the times he’s met the guy not once had that “Alpha Male” personality trope gone away - yet here he was, gladly side stepping an android who took his job from right under him.

 

 

There’s definitely respect somewhere though.

 

 

If it’s _not_ out of respect then Hank can guess something else. He doesn’t think to pry.

 

 

They’re an impressive bunch, a small team of seven including their leader - they’re quiet for the most part, but he knows androids have a weird telepathy system and were probably discussing options right now. 

 

 

What does surprise him however is watching one of the members take off their mask, which he only notices seemed to meld into their synthetic skin (huh, it’s suddenly not as ridiculous as it seemed), and give him a curious glance over. With M4 carbine casually leaned on him, Hank takes awhile to process the face looking at him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Connor - isn’t he one of your models?”

 

 

At the mention, Connor’s head shot up from the tablet, now immensely interested in the direction Hank was pointing to. Hank best described the emotion on Connor’s face as android excitement with his little awkward smile; literal _excitement_ at having to meet one of the few RK800 models that had been in stasis in a CyberLife pod and subsequently freed once CyberLife relinquished ownership of any android in their possession.

 

 

“Oh! He is!” 

 

 

Connor gets up before Hank can say anything, watching the detective android so casually greet his carbon copy - though Hank can’t fault Connor, despite the standard household models having about tens of thousands of their faces running around, Connor only had about 10 iterations of himself that all went off to do different things with their newfound life. He remembers Connor once likening it to finding a long lost sibling.

 

 

Hank watches as they share a couple of words, some of the team members having noticed and adding in a word or two before Connor trots back, a quiet, pleased smile on his face.

 

 

“His name is Mason, apparently he joined FERAL as soon as the idea was put on the table - not surprisingly, he’s the most talented on the team.” Connor sounded almost proud, like a big brother, it's a little endearing to see.

 

 

  
_ "Get down on the ground! _ __  
_ It's a stick up! Nobody make a sound! _ __  
_ Don't even hiccup, or I'm emptying a round! _ __  
_ I'm done playing games, so I'm going down in flames! _ _  
_ __ Let it rain over Washington!”

 

 

 

Their execution is nothing short of amazing, the target is taken down with what Hank can only describe as elegant fluidity; their pace all in line with each other comparable to even the most seasoned of veteran soldiers. _The power of technology_ he muses awhile, considering the fact that most of them were formal (and probably) commercial androids - the only exception being the Connor model.

 

 

The target is taken down without so much as a hitch, all hostages accounted for with only minor injuries and the bomb defused. It’s the _cleanest_ hostage situation Hank has ever had to work with and that’s already saying a lot.

 

 

He catches Connor later in a conversation with the _not_ Connor, or Mason, they’ve got to be sharing a joke or something considering their smiles.

 

 

“—don’t get me started on the amount of training we have to do, it’s as if our aim is affected by how many hours we spend in the gun range and not by program.”

 

 

“It’s the same for all law enforcement employment, you’re not alone— Lieutenant, we were just talking about training necessities of androids compared to humans.”

 

 

“Mhm, I heard. Mason right?”

 

 

He extends a hand, comfortable enough gesture. The handshake he receives is firm, a good grip.

 

 

“That’s me, it’s a pleasure to meet you sir.”

 

 

“Might as well call me Hank, Connor does it all the time - he’s just shy to do it at work.”

 

 

“Lieutenant!” 

 

 

It’s unnerving to see them side by side, it’d be hard to tell the difference for any normal person if it weren’t for the fact both of them wore different uniforms. Hank hadn’t considered the fact any of the other Connor models might go into law enforcement, but it was refreshing to see Connor so _excited_ to talk to one of his own models despite the history he has with them.

 

 

_ They were made as replacements, in any event that a Connor model is destroyed. They’d send a new one out with the important memories uploaded. Thankfully I never died … I was always scared Hank, I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to get replaced … _

 

 

He remembers the words burned into his memory, the tears that Connor had shed in the bout of emotion, Hank having to comfort and reassure him that he was _alive_ , he wasn’t replaced - and he **never** would be.

 

 

Their conversation ends before Hank can focus back on their topic, he watches Mason give a brief wave before joining the rest of his team. FERAL is out of sight before Connor speaks again, a thoughtful look in his eye.

 

 

“Mason asked me out for a drink, I inquired if there would be others but he seemed intent on taking me on a private date.”

 

 

“He _what_ now.”

**Author's Note:**

> moonbee: IM GONNA TIE YOU UP AND MAKE YOU WRITE 25000 WORDS STRAIGHT I WILL BITCH I WILL
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> me: thats kinky


End file.
